Passing Boats
by Nightwitch87
Summary: Canon. People walk in and out of each others' lives. But how exactly do you walk out? (This was originally supposed to be the last chapter of "Surrender", but is now a one-shot.)


**Author's Note:**** As stated in the description, this was originally intended to be the last chapter of "Surrender". However, for various reasons, I decided against it because it didn't quite fit. So it is now a very short stand-alone piece, although you can assume it's set in the same universe as "Surrender". As usual, reviews make me super happy, so if you have taken the time to read all of this, please let me know your thoughts. Thank you.**

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"_What is hardest to accept about the passage of time is that the people who once mattered the most to us wind up in parentheses."  
__― __John Irving__, __The Cider House Rules_

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**Passing Boats**

You choose to go in on a Friday afternoon. Friday afternoons are typically slow, which means fewer issues competing for attention, half the desk staff headed home early, the unis taking a break before the Friday night trouble starts. That's what you are counting on. Besides, you have to make some sort of progress on it this week or Tucker will never get off your back about this. So you do the walk through the familiar room, now half empty with many computers shut down. The only familiar face you spot is Amaro, who is half sitting on his desk, talking to some baby-faced guy who looks like he has taken a bath in hairgel. He is quick to spot you, almost doing a double take before getting up from his desk and walking off mid-conversation towards you. "Cassidy!"

"Hey, man. It's been a while." You awkwardly come to a halt standing a few feet apart. It feels like you should shake hands or something, but neither one of you makes the first move. Although you have run into Liv a few times at the IAB or One P-P, you actually haven't seen her partner in over a year. You suppose that's a good sign as far as he's concerned.

"Yeah. How have you been?" His tone is friendly. Whatever she has or hasn't told him, he doesn't hate you. Not that youreally care about his opinion of you…

"Good, thanks. Still working IA."

"I see that" he replies, looking you up and down in your fancy suit. "Everyone's favourite department. You like it?"

"You know. It's a job. How are you doing?"

"Good."

"The kids?"

"Doing great."

"Good." A natural silence falls and it's hard to believe you once shared a bathroom with this guy. You are almost cordial now. "So I'm here on official business." You point your thumb towards the head office.

"Uh-oh. We in trouble?"

"Always." You start to walk off.

"She expecting you?" he calls after you, forever the nosy partner.

"See you later, Amaro."

"Who's that guy?" you hear baby face ask a little too loudly as Nick returns to his desk.

"No one. Mind your own business."

You make sure not to hesitate for too long outside the door of her office before knocking, because you know Amaro will be watching. This place is worse than a locker room.

"Come in!" If she has seen you through the glass, she gives no indication of it as she glances up from her pile of papers. The look of concentration vanishes in an instant to make room for obvious surprise. "Brian…"

"Hi" you say casually, tucking at your jacket which suddenly feels too tight, "sorry to barge in like this."

"You could have called." There is mild irritation in her voice, just the kind of irritation you would expect from her at being surprised. She hates surprises. You could have called, yes. The truth is that you could have done this whole thing over the phone. You just decided not to. In a weird way, talking on the phone would have been worse, as it always makes the pauses more noticeable.

"IAB habit, sorry. Do you have a minute?"

"Just one. Have a seat." She gestures at the chair across from her desk and takes off her reading glasses, neatly putting them back into their case. Even at the end of what you can only assume has been a long work week, she looks effortlessly gorgeous in her plain, black and white blouse, the jacket hanging over the back of her chair.

You don't like the way it still ties your stomach in knots, now that you see her so rarely. Her hair is longer than you remember it –not that you've ever been super attentive to this sort of thing- and blow-dried into a slight curl at the bottom that has nearly disappeared over the course of the day. But you are not here to stare at her. Time to focus, to be professional. You are here on official business.

A half-concealed smile quickly replaces her irritation as she waits for you to get to the point. "You have 50 seconds left."

"So I'm working this case" you begin, because it wouldn't be fair to her not to be straightforward about why you are here, "and the guy I'm looking into used to work SVU about five years ago."

"Which guy?"

"Detective Robert Hierro, back then, Officer Hierro."

"Doesn't ring a bell."

"He would have been just a regular patrol officer downstairs. I need access to his personnel file."

She frowns. "Are we under investigation?"

"No, but he got into some trouble after leaving SVU –doesn't link to you- and I just need to establish if there's any pattern."

"File an official request."

"I kind of need it fast." You find yourself fidgeting with the pen in your pocket.

"Submit an official request, Detective. I'll get back to you on Monday."

"Come on…"

"No." You get the sense that she enjoys stonewalling you a little too much, as a realisation dawns on her. She crosses her arms in front of her. "Tucker wants this off the record, doesn't he? And he sends _you_ here because of that. Smooth move."

"Kind of…" You smile at her, half embarrassed, half amused at her predictably quick read of the situation. This was never going to work. You told your boss as much he just wouldn't listen. "Look, it wasn't my idea. Not that I specifically didn't want to come here-"

"You haven't tried very hard."

"I know a direct approach works best with you."

"Clearly not." You lock eyes for a moment until she breaks the contact, leaning back in her chair. "File an official request. In the meantime, if you want to talk to anyone who knew Hierro, I won't stop you. Just don't keep them from doing their jobs."

"Thanks." It was more than you could hope for. You should go now. You know you should, but your butt stays firmly implanted in that chair.

"Anything else?"

"No, not really, just…I don't know, I haven't seen you in so long…" Why do you have to be so awkward? This is Liv you're talking to, just Liv. Chill the fuck out.

"How are things at IA?" she asks casually.

You shrug nonchalantly. "All right. I make it home before 10 now, mostly even before 8."

"Wow, that's _almost_ normal hours. Impressive."

"How have you been, Liv?"

She doesn't give you her usual "fine". Instead, she sighs, running one hand through her hair. "Busy. Things have been…busy."

"Oh yeah? You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." There it is. "I'm managing, you know."

"What do you mean mana-" You are harshly interrupted by her cell phone ringing. You notice she has changed her ringtone.

She glances at the display. "Gotta take this, hang on."

You take that as an invitation to stay, even though she turns her upper body away from you, lowering her voice as she discusses whether it's bad that Noah had a small bite of some other kid's apple slice at the playground as he spit it out and seems fine now. It's not, apparently, as long as Lucy keeps an eye on him. "I'll be home soon. Oh…okay. Yeah, put him on. Hi, baby!" Her voice switches registers completely as her face lights up with joy. "Hi! I'll be home soon, okay? Ooh, no, you're okay…you're okay…Bye-bye!" Her face retains this soft look for a moment after she hangs up, a kind of softness that you haven't seen ever before. "Sorry" she mumbles in your direction as she types something into her phone.

"It's fine, I'm sorry to hold you up." You want the softness to linger for a moment because it's so different. Seeing her like this is the strangest thing, a mixture of happy and sad all at once, and the part that makes it ache is how _right_ it seems. And how you wish it could have been like that, but only for a moment, because you fully realise it could never have been like that otherwise. This is for the best. And that's the saddest part of all, as well as the happiest.

"Noah's been a little clingy ever since getting out of hospital."

"Hospital?"

The softness fades as she glances up from her phone and returns to the situation at hand. "It's kind of a long story. He's fine now, thankfully."

"Good. I'm glad to hear that." You get the sense that "long story" is the understatement of the year, and you would like to hear it, but that wouldn't be appropriate now. And perhaps that is even worse: That whatever is or isn't still between you, you can't even have this friendly conversation. You don't know her anymore. And yet you feel like you do, more than you could ever imagine knowing anyone else.

You've actually tried the dating thing –once, a couple of months ago- and yes, in time, it will work with someone else because you'll make it work. You don't believe in silly romantic ideas of there only being one person out there for everyone, because statistically speaking, that would give you a one in however many billion chances of finding that person. In your view, everyone floats along on the open water like boats, sometimes sailing smoothly, sometimes caught in storms, sometimes crashing, sometimes gliding along in parallel but mostly, passing each other. These boats form transient lights at night that illuminate only what is directly around them before disappearing again. In this ocean, you don't have a specific romantic destination in mind, or any ending at all. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn't, it doesn't. People walk in and out of your life, and eventually, there will be "people" again, although you can't imagine ever not comparing it, ever not thinking of her on some level. Because whatever the future holds, it won't be like this, this familiarity and trust. Perhaps it will be more in some way, more exciting, more novel, more blessed with happiness. But it won't be this.

"He'll be okay" she repeats, as if saying out loud will make it come true.

You point at the photograph on her desk of a toddler with a dead serious expression gazing straight into the camera. "Is that him?" It's a dumb question, since she wouldn't exactly have a photograph of a random toddler on her desk.

"Yeah." She beams at the picture, and there is that light in her eyes again.

"Wow. He's growing up fast."

"Too fast."

You try to think of other kid questions to ask to keep the conversation going, but you can't think of what people say, people with children. "Are you going ahead with the adoption?"

"Hopefully. I've drawn up the paperwork."

"They have to grant it. You're the only mom he knows and you're great."

"You make it sound so simple." Her smile fades as she looks at the picture again, and maybe it was stupid of you to tread into such a sensitive subject area.

"Um…if there's ever anything, anything at all, you know you can call me, right?"

"I know, Bri. Thanks. You're a nice guy."

"That's not it. It's just we…I…" Words fail you, as usual.

"I know. Me too." Her voice sounds breathy, and for a second there, everything appears to crumble around you, the office, the past year, everything. Then, it's back to business as she shuffles the papers on her desk unnecessarily. "So file that request, okay?"

"Will do."


End file.
